Thriller
by livingdeadgirl
Summary: Recent media events inspired this. Tied to 'Nightmare Ring' but can be read separately - Freddy complains, Samara listens...


Title: Thriller

Author: Kora

E-mail: KrazyKora@aol.com or WinterViolet24@aol.com

Rating: R

Disclaimer: The following a character belong to Wes Craven, Gore Verbinski and all the other people and companies who deal with all that legal stuff. I am simply using the characters for my own twisted enjoyment. Also mentions of the songs 'Thiller', 'Billy Jean', and 'Scream' belong to those people who made those songs. Also to Michael and Janet Jackson, who are both mentioned.

Author's Notes: Considering recent events this story NEEDED to be written – at least by somebody and that somebody is me! Most people will probably boo hoo this one but what can I say? I like the controversial now and then – not to mention my 'Nightmare Ring' muse is on holiday ::grumble, grumble::

In relation to 'Nightmare Ring', I place this somewhere after Chapter 13.

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"What the fuuuccckk…" Freddy Krueger, the Nightmare Man, drew out as he held the remote loftily in his hand. He sat in the destroyed living room in his version of 1428 Elm, the crushed couch beneath him filthy, various metal springs poking out of it.

In front of him was a television that _he_ controlled – like he controlled everything else in his realm. The dreamscape was his canvas and he was its sole artist. Though he did have something of an apprentice painter working beneath him – one who he actually did not control…at least not yet.

He called out to her now, "Samara!"

The little girl appeared automatically, having fallen asleep in her human body mere moments ago. She normally took the form of a teen in the dreamscape these days, having grown rather fond of Becca's…no, her human form but at this moment she chose to be her true self. The vengeful little girl spirit who struck terror into the hearts so many. 

She walked over, long hair hanging straight and limp but face unveiled and unmarked. She almost looked alive. Almost. But she was too pale and her eyes were much too dark. But then, she had looked that way in life also. Maybe she had never _really_ been living. Now, she felt she was.

She looked at Freddy then at the TV, voice quiet static, "What?"

"Have you seen this?!" he asked, gesturing to what was on screen.

Samara turned and was surprised to see he was watching the local news. She frowned, "I wasn't aware you could tap into the mortal world this way…"

"Shit, I can do anything!" he hissed, angered by her underestimation of his power, "I can even get cable!"

He chuckled, muttering, "Even get the Playboy station sometimes…"

Samara pretended she hadn't heard that and instead watched the news. A very thin, very pale man was on TV. His face was very strange – as if it had been worked on too much, too many surgeries. Words scrolled along the bottom of the screen and it was all too bright and flashy for her eyes. She hated the media. Hated news coverage. Hated TV…it was like they tried to hose people down, soaked them with too much information.

She closed her eyes and tried to just listen to the words said by the male newscaster. "Michael Jackson, The pop star of such hits as 'Thriller' and Billy Jean', said the child molestation allegations made against him are based on "a big lie" -- and that he will be exonerated in court…"

The frown on her face deepened, "I don't understand…"

Freddy let out a growl, head snapping in her direction, eyes blazing, "What are you?! Stupid?! This shit on the TV is getting all this attention for tapping little boys and what did I get for all I've done?! Nothing but a few measly articles in the fucking Springwood local press! You didn't see me blazed all over America – this fuck's on every news station I've flipped too – almost every goddamn channel! Commercials, ads…"

__

Who are you calling stupid? She wanted to say but instead returned nonchalantly, "Well they did say he was a big pop star. You were never famous-"

"Never famous! Do you _know_ how many teens I've gutted? And before them, how many kids I screwed around with and tortured and tore apart and-"

"But you never release an album."

"WHAT?!"

"They said he was a big somebody in the music world once. Had one of the best selling records, 'Thriller'-"

"Thriller?! Fuck, 'Thriller'! I remember that shit! It was in a dream of one of those kids I killed back in the day and it was a piece of shit! Some dumb ass song about horror movies, fucking video with gay-ass zombies who-"

"If I remember rightly, didn't a zombie beat you?"

He shot her a warning look, "Don't start."

"Jason, I think his name was-"

Freddy slashed his claws out at Samara but she merely dodged the blow, something of an amused look taking her, "Calm down. What do you care what the mortal world does-"

"I care when a weirdo like this gets more attention than I do! I did far more than he ever did! I deserve this kind of in-depth reporting! Not this – this…" He let out a disgruntled snarl, "Maybe if I was on TV this much when I did _my_ thing I would have more fear of me going around. Be able to access more dreams…"

"Well, you know what you could do," Samara said, feeling the amusement in her grow. The feeling was strange, new, nice…she continued, "You could always start a singing career."

He glared at her, she actually felt like laughing, "After all, you two are kind of similar."

"Shut up! We are fucking not!"

"Let's see," she began to tick the similarities off on her fingers, "You both have strong backgrounds in the 80's, you both have a preference towards one hand gloves -"

Freddy put his hands over his ears, whining, "I'm not listening!"

She undauntedly proceeded, "You both show up in people's nightmares, both have had your faces 'worked' on - must I continue? You have a lot in common. Accept it." He answered with a very sulky look as he dropped his hands from his ears. She gloried in his discomfort, remarking, "You'll be even more alike if the kid thing is true-"

"There's another fucking point!" he bellowed, "People are defending this guy! Saying he might not have done it! No one stood up and did that for me."

"But you _were_ guilty," she pointed out blankly.

"So what? He might be too! We don't know! Where was _my_ Elizabeth Taylor saying-"

"You really need to kill someone, don't you?" Samara sighed, "Then you wouldn't be forced to find other things like this to entertain you …"

He tossed the remote aside, folding his arms and sneering, very unhappy, "This is such bullshit…"

"How about to occupy your time while you wait for the next dream kill you start working on that hit single, then you can get this kind of coverage on the next kid you mess around with…"

Freddy looked at her, eyes hot, asking incredulously, "You're teasing me?!"

"I can help choreograph your dance moves…"

"I ain't grabbin' my fuckin' crotch, I ain't moonwalking, and I ain't about to belt out 'Billy Jean!'."

"I think we agreed 'Thriller' is the song more suited towards you."

"Yeah?! Well _Janet_, you're about to be joining others in a chorus of 'Scream' if you keep it up!" he snapped.

Samara merely shook her head and walked over to him. She leaned up on her tip toes and gave him a chaste kiss on his burn scarred cheek, "Relax. I still think you're the best child-molester."

Freddy scowled, somewhat appeased, "Really?"

"Yeah, if you want…maybe I'll let you molest this child someday."

His eyes actually seemed to gleam as he looked at her, a wicked grin forming, "_Really_?"

Samara merely let out a childish giggle that would send shivers of terror down a normal person's spine. Down Freddy's spine…it went towards different emotions. And different sections of his anatomy.

She drew back and actually had the audacity to wink, "But not today."

And in a flash she was gone. Freddy turned back to the TV, disappointed and furious and with a flick of his hand the television exploded, bursting into a fireball as he mumbled under his dark breath, "Fucking 'Thriller' my ass…"


End file.
